My Ending
by NoOneCatchMe
Summary: JD POV.


Title: My Ending

Author: AngelsWings5

Type: Short Story

Disclaimer: I don't actually own Scrubs. Seriously. I swear, it's true.

Summary: JD POV.

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The End

I'm sat on my deck in the tent, legs crossed with the door open. I look out onto the empty street. I imagine it all in front of me; Kim and our kids, loading up the car for a vacation, sitting on the driveway having a picnic, me playing baseball with the kids, teaching them to ride their first bikes, all the stuff most people have or are about to have at my age.

Yet, I'm sitting here in a tent in my pyjamas, single, childless and completely alone. I don't even have a house or an apartment, it's just me; sitting here along. It's kind of strange, the way that no matter how much the people around me change, I always seem to stay the same; just floating through life looking for something I never seem to find.

I'm a doctor though, right? So what, is that supposed to make me a good person? Is that supposed to make my entire life fulfilled? Hey, it was a dream, a dream which came true, but what the hell does that mean now? Now I'm just Dr Dorian, who cares? Other than my mom, of course.

My breath is smoke in the cold night air.

I close my eyes with a sigh. There's an aching in the pit of my stomach, feels like it's pulling me down, weighing me down. My head hurts as well, I feel like I've been stabbed. Every so often my heart skips a beat, thinking of what I've done, thinking of all that I have, or that is to say what I don't have.

God, how could I have been so damn stupid? She's in a coma! My best friend's baby is in a coma because of me! I should be there, admitting I've done wrong, begging my friend's for forgiveness, keeping close watch of Isabella with them. But I'm not there at the hospital worrying with them; I'm here on my own in my 'home', wallowing in my own self pity. Some friend I am, I could have killed his daughter, ruined his life, not to mention his wife's. Oh God, Carla, the tears streaming down her face, her screams of hysteria. The looks people gave me as I walked away out of the hospital, the looks of hatred, the looks of 'how could you?' and 'you call yourself a doctor?', I think there even may have been a few glances of pity.

Turk and Carla will never forgive me, no matter what. Even if Isabella's fine, me and Turk never will be again. I could have killed his daughter, how could he forgive that? I probably couldn't, so why should he? Even if he attempts to stay friend's with me, there'll always be that hanging over our heads, looking down on us and destroying the chance of any possible friendship.

How could this have happened? How could I have given her the wrong amount of paracetamol!? What's wrong with me? I couldn't even get that right? I'm not fit to be a doctor anyway. I turn away and look back into my tent and pull out my rucksack. I put it on the deck in front of me and unzip it.

I take a bottle of Vodka out from my bag, something I defiantly need. I take a cork screw from my bag as well and use the end of it to flip the cap off of the bottle. I toss the cap and the cork screw onto the ground beside me and take the bottle in my right hand. I put the end of it to my lips and drink the cool fluid down. It's no appletini, but it helps.

I lost a baby, my girlfriend and my best friend all in one year. Must be some kind of record, huh? I laugh to myself, but I don't really know what I'm laughing at. There's nothing funny here. No, so why am I laughing? Maybe life is so crappy it's just funny? I mean, how could it get any worse?

I look at the glowing lights from the street lamps, the light and warmth coming through people's windows, families sat inside their houses, engrossed in their televisions. The silence of the street would normally be pretty creepy, but tonight it isn't. Tonight it's different. Tonight I'm screaming inside.

A tear falls down my cheek.

I suddenly feel like my body and my mind have disconnected as I find myself reaching into my rucksack once again and pulling them out. I look at the brown plastic bottle. Everything in it to make all of this right again.

I guess I found the answer I was looking for all along. I push down on the cap, my whole body aches now and feels so…so heavy. I unscrew the lid and it pops off. I pour the white powdered pills into my left hand, pick up the bottle of Vodka again in the other. I put the pills in my mouth and let my other hand reach up to my face quickly to allow my throat to push down the pills into my system. To allow me to sleep tonight.

I down the whole bottle of Vodka, it makes my head kind of fuzzy. I put the empty bottle of pills and the Vodka bottle into the tent with my rucksack and clamber out of my tent, my home. No, this isn't home, I'm going home.

I turn behind me again and drag out my sleeping bag. I lie down across the top step on my deck and pull the sleeping bag over me. I'm lying here, curled up on my side. I turn my head slightly so I can see the stars, though my vision blurs from stinging tears.

I smile, thinking about what could have been. The possibilities, everything that I could have had… yet I'm here, wasting away on my own. My eyes focus on one star in particular, I don't know why though, it's not the brightest star in the sky, in fact it's one of the smallest? One of the most faded.

I stare at it, the lonely star, the one that forgot to shine. It doesn't mean anything, it's just there.

I feel the darkness surrounding me and my eyes gently close. The smile is only slight now, but when they find me I'll still be smiling. Because this is it, this is the end.


End file.
